Will You Still Love Me
by IKnowAlma
Summary: Marla McGivers had always loved ambitious men from history. She spent all her time dedicated to worshipping their forgotten existence. She adored them...and then she met one. KhanxMarla, set before, during and after Into Darkness.
1. Chapter 1 - Fool

Will You Still Love Me

Chapter 1 – Fool

She looked out from her balcony over London city with a disapproving gaze dressed in a midnight blue nightdress kept warm by a thin white fleece dressing gown. The year 2258 may have had all the lights and technology but it lacked the passion of earlier centuries. Though she had the awareness to know she had romanticised such figures she still could not help but wish for a twenty-third century man to be full of ambition akin to Alexander the Great, Richard the Lionheart or Napoleon. Men of this day and age were boring, mundane and not worth her time unfortunately.

Brooding on being born in the wrong era she sipped at her morning coffee from her apartment balcony. Paint flecked her hands, whether from the night before or this morning she could not tell, probably both. She was dedicated in her hobby of creating and collecting art and considering her occupation she had time for such distractions. Even now she sat a PADD on her lap, sketching away on the screen a concept of Flavius if he had lived in the twenty-third century. She preferred traditional methods but she could not deny that modern inventions made it easier at times.

Closing the image down she decided it was best to head to work. While her role was not all that important it did not stop her from being scolded when late. Marla McGivers was a Historian which she loved dearly. Her passion was for ages past and that she could spend all day losing herself in texts or identifying things from eras she would much prefer to live in was a blessing but there were the downsides.

Being a Historian for Starfleet meant she had two options. Be a rather useless member of one of those massive starships out exploring deep space and tolerate a crew loathing your ineffectual existence or work in a somewhat more dangerous field. Marla had opted for the latter after some particularly unpleasant life experiences aboard various starships.

As such the young, pretty red head worked for some of the highest ranked members of Starfleet at Kelvin Memorial Archive. She was rarely a part of the secret schemes of the Section 31 London base beneath however though she was privy to its existence. Her historical knowledge was hardly ever called upon and mostly she worked as if she had no knowledge of the meticulous designs below instead assisting the unknowing with their searches for innocent information within the Archive.

She barely touched her face with make up as she pinned her long red hair up and away from her face and neck in a fashion that was both comfortable and practical. She was not one to care for appearances as she never met anyone worth caring for.

She donned the dark grey uniform of the Archives and was well on her way, PADD in hand. Entering her workplace she only cast a quick glance towards the elevator where one man was being scanned to grant access below. She had only been given clearance a few times to do the same to assist in identifying old relics that had made it into space. It didn't really bother her though as she had no interest in designing new technology or discovering it.

Briefly she chatted with one of her colleagues before taking a position at her help desk. She began her day with an enjoyable read of the details of Leif Eriksson. She knew it all by heart of course but that never stopped her from reading it. It was much later in the day when she was interrupted.

"Lieutenant McGivers. We need your expertise." A foot soldier declared entering the particular Archive Marla had disappeared into after aiding someone in their search for information. She tried not to be visibly irritated knowing that was frowned upon but she couldn't help her annoyance with so many interruptions.

She was escorted to the base below, rushed past rooms filled with things that she could question the morality of if she cared to. Before she knew it she was in a rather barren room with a large screen. Word was sent that she had arrived and soon she was staring into the eyes of one intimidating Admiral Marcus.

"I'll make this quick Lieutenant. I have an image of a man I want you to identify for me." The Admiral instructed with that rather commanding voice. She could almost admire him. Almost.

All thoughts of her opinion of the high ranking Starfleet official vanished however when the next image showed on screen. She instantly recognised the man displayed before her, her breath catching in her throat in awe. Was this a new image they had found or had they found _him_? She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking as she knew she would not be answered and displaying her strong desire to be a part of whatever they were doing if it was him would most likely instantly have her separated from the matter entirely. The fact they consulted her at all suggested they were in a hurry to proceed with whatever it was they were doing, deeming it easier to confer with her than to search databases themselves. She took a moment to compose herself as best she could intending to impress the Admiral and encourage the idea that she should be a continued liaison for whatever it was they were doing.

"Khan Noonien Singh." She declared looking over the Indian man with approval. Of all the powerful and ambitious men from the past he was the last to live before men became mundane and lifeless. There was the smallest probability that image could be of him, alive or at least well preserved in the twenty-third century. After all, he and eighty-four other augments had simply disappeared after the Eugenic Wars, for all history knew he could have somehow survived. Not that this was common knowledge but she had a passion for this kind of thing.

"What can you tell me about him?" Admiral Marcus enquired waking Marla up from her dazed dreaming. She hesitated wondering what the Admiral would do if he knew who the man was. Superior men breed superior ambition and that might be something for Starfleet to balk at. If there was any chance to aid her historic idol she would have to imply to Marcus that Khan would be a great asset. She wasn't even certain if they had found him in the flesh let alone alive but 'what ifs' demanded she plan for the possibility. For the first time in her life she wanted desperately to be a bigger part of something she usually found tedious.

"He was the man behind the Eugenic Wars. The result of selective breeding and genetic engineering to create the perfect soldier. He proved to be more than that however and became the leader of a time of peace until his more violent allies destroyed those plans." She explained briefly. She put her hands behind her back and squeezed them in her attempts to remain composed wanting desperately to ask a million questions. Admiral Marcus seemed to be considering her words, weighing them against a decision.

"Thank you for your assistance Lieutenant. You can return to your regular duties." The military man declared before the screen shut down. Marla visibly displayed her disappointment as she was escorted back to the Archive above. She sat at her desk nearly in tears wishing desperately to be a part of whatever was going on wherever it was occurring. With a dissatisfied sigh she disappeared into one of the break rooms with her PADD to draw. Her concept abandoned, she instead enjoyed sketching the last great man to live.

* * *

He knew darkness and pain. He knew words, how to breathe, how to think. But his knowledge seemed strained, like it was missing something. The ache in his head was only matched by that of his body. He felt like he could hear other people speaking. Someone was saying a name. It wasn't his name, was it? What was his name?

"John? John can you hear me?" A commanding voice called. Suddenly alert he opened his eyes. Blinding light filled them and he remained still as he waited for his vision to adjust. "That's it, John. Welcome back." That same voice continued. He stared at a ceiling that did not feel familiar, a world that seemed foreign. Did ceilings always look like that? It was metal; a lot of things around him were metal. He opened his mouth attempting to ask where he was though his voice would not cooperate. The pain of his body was slowly receding though the ache in his skull was persistent. "Your eyes should adjust to the light in no time." That same stern tone explained again. He began to sit up, attempting to speak again.

"Where…am I…?" He finally asked quickly glancing around the strange room and then towards the even stranger man. He had a strict look and was obviously military though he did not recognise the uniform. From the expression on the man's face he was a friend or at least pretending to be.

"Home, John. You've come _home_." The man answered his question. 'John' turned around to sit on the side of his bed not even recognising his own name. "You won't remember it. You won't remember much of anything. But my name is Alex Marcus and I've been your friend for _years_." The older man explained.

"Alex…and I'm…John?" He enquired as the pounding in his head increased as if unable to absorb this information, rebelling against it with agony. How could his own name feel so foreign to him?

"John Harrison. A Starfleet Lieutenant. Six months ago you were critically injured on a mission to the Klingon homeworld. Brain trauma that should have left you catatonic for life. But the best surgeons in Starfleet, and the fact you're the toughest bastard I know, brought you back." Alex continued to clarify but all of it was unfamiliar. He could recall nothing. Not his name, not his mission, not these Klingons. Any attempt at searching his memory met with dark emptiness. He placed his hands over his ears, tangling his fingers in his hair as if that would stop the pounding of his skull and the overflow of information that did not feel right.

"I don't know who I am." He declared in frustration. As bizarre as the world around him was, he would come to discover that his face was even more unfamiliar. The man in the mirror was a stranger. He would look at him without the slightest hint of recognition. Sharp features, white skin, blue eyes or were they green? His eyes had never been that light, had they? Dark hair that he kept slicked back though a clump on the right side seemed to disobey this command, rebelling against it every chance it got forcing him to run his hand through it every now and again. He dressed usually in a grey suit jacket like shirt with a blue hexagon pattern on the front. Grey pants and combat boots to finish the ensemble though occasionally he wore the black sweater with the Starfleet logo on it. That was something he could hardly believe he forgot. A symbol of what was meant to be his whole world.

With each new day he found himself needing to learn what one thing was or another. If he had questions, Alex would answer them or explain anything that seemed new. Some things came to him quickly, others not at all. It was ridiculous the notions that seemed to elude him. Some of it was the most basic of modern technology. Older things seemed to come to him more easily though nothing was difficult. Admiral Marcus was not wrong in describing him as a genius he could arrogantly admit. Even without his memories he seemed quite adaptable to any situation. Then there were his dreams.

They kept him awake, pouring over his file in the Starfleet databases each time he awoke from a delusion in a world foreign to the one he lived in during his waking hours and yet the world of his sleep seemed oddly familiar, more so than the one that he constantly questioned. As he searched his records he noted that there was something off about his dossier never mind that he had no life away from the job that was apparently his passion before his injury or so Alex had told him. It felt like cheap fabrication.

If Starfleet truly was his only life before it was what he returned to. He was told by his old yet new friend that his work had been everything to him and regardless of the truth of that statement before, it definitely was now. He worked on upgrading the systems, designing weapons, helping plan and direct the continued construction of the _USS Vengeance_. As the months drew on his dreams would become headaches during the day and flashes of images, of people he did not know would play before his eyes. They were the memories of someone else or at least that was how he felt. When he approached Alex about them he was told they were memories of past missions but that never sat right with John. His entire existence felt fictitious in a way. Was that what it was like to have amnesia? If so then he had a debt he had to pay with these 'Klingons'.

* * *

Months had past and the only things reminding Marla that Admiral Marcus had ever approached her with an image of a man she desperately wanted to meet were her paintings. She had at first poured over all the information she had pertaining to Khan Noonien Singh. She had studied the rare images of his face and gone mad with sketching and painting. But with no further word she was now at the stage of putting her works in her storage room, leaving only a few out to join the artworks on the walls as permanent fixtures.

Sipping her morning coffee she stared at her latest work, the image of this man surrounded in a sea of passionate red. What she would give to meet him in person, to speak to him. She wondered what it would be like to know a man who desired to rule the world so much that they could actually achieve it. She shivered just at the thought.

If Admiral Marcus had truly found Khan somewhere out in deep space Marla wondered if she had made the wrong decision to abandon the path of her occupation aboard starships. She had nearly been assigned to the _USS Enterprise_ at one point. From what little knowledge she absorbed in relation to the somewhat infamous ship and its new captain, they got into the kind of situations that possibly would have had them finding whatever it was that the Admiral had discovered.

But thinking of such things would only leave her downhearted and would be terribly counter-productive. There was no point in 'what ifs' when she didn't even know what she was missing out on. It was like wondering about other experiences in her life that had changed her even if only slightly. She had always been a weak woman who wore her heart on her sleeve though she tried hard to keep a poker face. She would pretend to be strong but the right word and she'd crumble. Perhaps that was why she adored these men so much. They were everything she was not. She aspired to be a woman they would take a second glance at and after her few incidents out in space she had to say she had made some progress towards that goal. Not a lot but some or at least she liked to tell herself that.

Deciding it was too early in the day to do a self-analysis and pick herself apart; Marla finished her caffeine and went back to her bed to read on her PADD. She had called in sick, notifying work so she could mope at home for the sake of disappointment. A day of solitude in her dwelling was exactly what she needed and it was much nicer than being bothered by the insistent people who always needed help to find something. She hated how they approached her like the task was difficult. But that was just her aggression towards being interrupted. A part of herself she rarely liked to think about because then she could no longer live in denial.

* * *

John had learnt much about himself in the months since he had woken. Not much about his past unfortunately and what he did know he didn't trust but he had learnt his capabilities. He was strong, able to assist in manual labour for construction, he retained knowledge easily and was adept at problem solving. Technology was something that came as easily to him as breathing not to mention charisma. People seemed to be drawn to him, admiration and respect an expression he frequently observed on opposing faces. He attempted at times to manipulate others because of this, to see how far they would go for him. They would do anything if he requested it. Of course some times he got that last part wrong but he was only human. Words and suggestion could only go so far.

When he approached Alex with the proposition of sending him to Praxxis alone, for a moment he felt his old friend would not permit it. But with some clever wording, the insistence that his personal transporter needed testing and an emphasis on doing the Klingons some harm he managed to persuade Admiral Marcus to let him go unaided. He was quickly learning that the Klingons were a bit of a weakness when it came to his old friend who wasn't very good at hiding his stance on the alien race if he was even trying.

That was how John had ended up on Praxxis, his association with Starfleet obscured by the black loose hood with the baggy collar he pulled over his black sweater and then the added modern trench coat. He was at the mining facility having placed the last bomb in position. He was calculating for any chance of failure when overwhelming pain seared through his skull dropping him to his knees. Images flashed before him; smog, fighting, people dead on the ground. Memories of a past mission, memories of someone else but not his memories. They could not be John Harrison's memories.

When the attack stopped and he returned to reality he found a patrol group had located him, the leader pointing a gun at his face. From the shadow of his hood John looked up at the small group of four. Alex had not given him much in the way of physical training. He had permitted it of course but he seemed to have a hesitation towards Harrison and combat, like a doubt that John could not explain no matter how much he analysed it.

"Now you die." The warrior stated in his native tongue. John had learnt the language as he prepared for the mission so he understood clearly. He tilted his head almost in pity for the man who had no idea what he had just stumbled into. In a split second John had removed the Klingon's gun from his grip.

"Fool." He simply declared before slamming the weapon so hard into his attacker's head that he snapped the neck. The next soldier he shot in the chest, dodging fire from the other two in a stylistic flip before hitting one in the chest with his appropriated weapon so hard he broke ribs and punctured organs, incapacitating his opponent.

John took out his final target by taking a knife from the unknowingly dead man and swinging it through his throat with an animalistic growl. He took a moment to look over the group of four on the ground dead, dying or injured beyond comprehension. His breathing and heart rate had not even increased. He found it pathetic.

Abandoning the blade John used his personal transporter to beam to Kronos in an area he had deemed safe from patrols at that time. He pulled out his PADD to check the countdown, noting only ten seconds to go. Harrison then looked up at the moon to observe his work come to fruition irritatingly dissatisfied.

The explosions sent veins of fire across Praxis and in the same instance images came to his mind, memories came to him. He had been amongst such fire and destruction before, covered in the blood of his enemies. As the moon crumbled in flames before him he focused on the image of himself, of who he truly was.

"My name…" He stated in awe, eyes wide but not looking at the present. While he truly returned to who he was and saw the lies Admiral Marcus had told he watched impassively as his work was completed.

"I remember my name." Khan declared. He considered his crew and Admiral Marcus' obvious plans to use him. Rage began to boil in his blood threatening to overwhelm him but the tactician's mind the black haired man had been designed for knew he could not let emotion control him. If he was to locate and save his people Khan needed to be cautious. To work with the one man he wanted to tear apart.


	2. Chapter 2 - Magnetic, Electric

Chapter 2 – Magnetic, Electric.

She sat sketching behind her desk though she lacked her usual passion. She barely even heard the audio she was playing from the speakers at her little office space regaling her with the exploits of Alexander the Great. It was little wonder the foot solider had to repeat her name five times before she finally heard it.

"Lieutenant McGivers, follow me." He commanded. The red haired woman shot him an irritated look as she closed her works before following him to _that_ elevator. She wondered for a moment if she was about to be teased with something she would want to be a part of again. If so she highly considered applying to work on starships once more to avoid future disappointment. It was draining and a larger annoyance than the usual interruptions she received.

Dutifully she placed her impassive face on as the large screen blinked to life showing Admiral Marcus once again. His gaze was no less stern than it always was.

"Lieutenant, I have a job for you. This man is coming to work in the archive below." The military like official began explaining as an image showed on his screen. The man's skin was pale and he held a face with strong angles, high cheekbones and sharp eyes a marvellous shade of the palest blue she had ever seen with a hint of green. His dark hair was mostly kept slicked back though a clump on the right hand side of his face had slipped forward. "His name is John Harrison. I've given you security clearance to go where he goes." The Admiral continued attracting Marla's attention from analysing this person and back to the older man. She barely stopped herself from questioning him but her face was full of these unspoken queries. Marla was hardly a person they would want learning all their deepest, darkest secrets.

"The things he will be working on will be beyond your comprehension, I have no concerns there. What I want from you is to observe the man. At the end of each day you will report to Lieutenant Sulu to discuss anything you notice regarding John's behaviour. Specifically anything you find _familiar_." The Admiral finished explaining though it did nothing to answer the questions McGivers had poised on her lips and only fuelled further confusion. But before she could get herself into trouble for insubordination he cast a look that made her return to attention.

"Understood Admiral." She replied glancing back to the image of the man called John Harrison. For the life of her she could neither comprehend the reasons why she was given this task nor stop herself from drowning her curiosity in the irritation that her work would be interrupted with the task of observing someone she did not know to _recognise_ anything.

She was mulling over these thoughts outside the Archives when she spotted him exiting a transport donned in the blue chest version of the grey Starfleet uniform with a small escort that almost made her feel like he was a criminal. From what little of his file she was permitted to read she knew this was not the case however. The red haired woman approached him, saluting the man as he gave her a curious glance as if to ask why she was interrupting him.

"Sir. I am Lieutenant McGivers. I have been instructed to escort you and assist you in any way I can for the duration of your stay in London." She explained. A flicker of something crossed his face; perhaps bitter amusement. Marla found herself taken aback. He had a presence. Something about him that was magnetic. An electric air that made him feel superior to everyone she had ever known. It was alarmingly exciting and she found she had to internally remind herself that no man of the twenty-third century was worth her time and yet without anything more than a glance, he threatened to be.

"Of course." He responded in a deep voice that sent chills down her spine. It was a voice that promised danger but in a way that made it seem acceptable and exhilarating. Not only that but it was the kind that every late night male radio host wished he had because it made women melt like butter. She almost forgot what she was doing until he bowed his head in a gesture of 'ladies first' as his military escort dropped away. He cast a seemingly casual glance back to them as he followed the red head toward the Archives. Marla found herself forgetting her irritation in favour of fascination towards this man called John Harrison. She had never met anyone like him. The energy around him exuded greatness. That in itself was electrifying.

He had expected it of course. Marcus may have been a fool but he was not without sensible caution. But of all the people from Starfleet, the girl the Admiral had chosen was incomprehensible. Or at least the surface of her was. Khan had analysed her from the minute she approached him. Small, fragile and her sense of duty almost inexistent. She was beautiful, yes though she clearly put no effort into her appearance. Her long fiery hair was styled in a fashion more suited to comfort than framing her face and was probably only tied up at all to keep it out of the way. She held herself in a manner that screamed youthful naivety and hardly seemed to recall she was part of an elite organisation. She was the most insignificant person the Admiral could have chosen to watch him and this was only emphasized when Khan looked over her files as he worked. The only possible explanation for recruiting a Historian into monitoring him was in the hopes that she would somehow recognise it was him and betray the fact his memories had returned.

If that was Admiral Marcus' angle then Khan had a few choice words about his intellect and some repressed scornful laughter. Regardless of the ridiculous notion, she was also terrible at observation. At first she had watched him like he was some exotic beast supplied for her entertainment. Even then she had not really _seen_ him or anything he was doing. She could not even comprehend his new blueprints for the missiles, designing them so he could smuggle the seventy-two crew members to safety that he had found recorded in the archives with a bit of digging and covering his tracks.

He glanced up from said plans to observe her for the purpose of possible manipulation. He loathed admitting it but he needed allies and being a man from the past he couldn't just call up old friends. She was to be someone he would have constant contact with so why not gauge if she could suit his purposes.

Currently Lieutenant McGivers was sketching away on her PADD. Ignoring the temptation to taunt Admiral Marcus for the bad move of employing the woman, Khan feigned the necessity of an item on the table McGivers had casually seated herself upon completely ignorant of her duty. He glanced to the PADD as he did so almost casually in the hopes of identifying something he might use to plant worship in her. The only indication that she had noticed him was a slight shift in her weight when he had reached for a tool behind her. Khan's head tilted in curiosity when he recognised the subject she was working on and he found himself analysing the woman once more as he gave her another once over. There was more to her than met the eye it would seem.

"That is Richard the Lionheart is it not?" He asked waking her from her reverie. She glanced toward him in alarm, closing the image and bringing her PADD to her lap as if Admiral Marcus himself had caught her neglecting her duties.

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir." She quickly replied. It was easy to see that her obligations to do what was required of her were a source of irritation however. This one wore her heart on her sleeve. That would make it so much easier to manipulate her.

"Can I see?" He requested with the intention of winning her favour though he could not deny he was also curious. She hesitated a moment before opening the image again and handing her PADD over to him. The artwork was divine, a lot of care and skill put into it. She definitely had talent. "This is magnificently done. Though I prefer more traditional methods myself." He commented. The woman blushed slightly staring intently at her work and avoiding any glimpse of his face clearly embarrassed by the praise.

"I prefer traditional as well but it's a lot harder to bring my paints and canvas' to work so I have to leave them at home." She responded. Khan found his head tilting in slight curiosity and amusement. The woman he had thought entirely plain was turning out to be very interesting indeed.

* * *

Over the next few weeks Marla found herself taking to John Harrison. It was an odd feeling as the only time she had had more than a casual interest in a man was when it came to her romanticised leaders of the past. But John was something else. When she spoke to Lieutenant Sulu she commented on his hardworking attitude, the fact she would have to physically bring food to him to get him to eat some days. He was committed to his work as if it kept him alive. The thing she wouldn't mention however was how charismatic he could be when he did take a break. He would talk to her and make her feel like the most important person in the world once his attention was taken away from his occupation. She always got a thrill when she managed to convince him to stop a moment to eat. At first he'd be reluctant and even appear irritated but eventually he would give in and present her with his fond, tiny smile that made her feel like a high school girl.

He had convinced her to bring in one of her easels and some canvases. At first she had continued her work on Richard the Lionheart but one day when she was considering what to do she had spotted Harrison lifting equipment. Before she knew what she was doing she had begun painting his portrait. She had tried to hide it from him of course but he was excruciatingly observant to her embarrassment. When he had inspected it the expression on his face had been some bizarre mix of amusement and disgust. Marla had destroyed the painting after that.

Currently she was watching him work on some large weapon that seemed ludicrous. It was far too large and encumbering for anyone to efficiently use. It required two men to lift it and so far no pair of men could even handle the strength of one shot fired from the thing.

Marla noticed herself yawning and glanced at the time on her PADD. It was 11:35. Usually she disappeared home after reporting to Sulu but tonight was one of the nights she had returned to watch Harrison. He was a magnificent man and she admitted it to herself only because it was evident others thought him as such as well. She caught more than one assistant or even completely irrelevant person staring at him in wonder. It was comforting that she wasn't the only person bewitched by the magnetic energy he exuded.

Marla's thoughts were interrupted by another yawn as she considered how late it was. She was beginning to wonder if Harrison really ever slept.

"You don't need to remain here you know." He informed her almost as if he was reading her mind. The fact that he was obviously aware she had been staring startled the red head from her drowsy state as she sat up straighter and tried to ignore the blush creeping up her neck and onto her face from being caught. John glanced towards her silently with a gaze that sent shivers down her spine. While aware of his alluring presence and deliberately resistant to it she still found herself caught by his charm when she let her guard down. She took a deep breath as if that would quell the butterflies in her stomach.

"Why do you wear your hair in such an uncomplimentary fashion?" John enquired after a long moment of silence. Marla tilted her head almost as if she had been slapped. She could hardly process the words that had just been directed at her. From anyone else she would understand. Most people were obsessed with appearances. That was unfortunately a human trait that had been going on for years however it was also one that seemed out of place on a man such as John.

"…what?" She enquired blinking rapidly as if that would somehow bring her clarity. She tensed when Harrison abandoned his work to approach her, stepping close and looking down at Marla in an intimidating and intoxicating way. "It's comfortable." She answered when it was clear he was not going to explain himself. He reached behind her head and she found her breath sticking in her throat as he removed pins from her hair. He left it in a ponytail but let strands of red curls drop down to dangle around her shoulders, letting her fringe frame her face instead of being pulled back and out of the way.

"There. Soft, natural, simple." He commented dusting fingers across her neck. She shifted back or as far back as her seat on the table would allow her without physically climbing across it, painfully aware of his touch. She tried to grasp at her thoughts but they flitted away drowned by the rough texture of his voice, words dissociated from their topic and now without meaning. She had to respond, react and show that she wasn't there to impress him. She had to say something though for the life of her she could not think of what.

"Would you like to go out and get something to eat?" She offered in a mad scramble. She openly frowned at her own suggestion wondering what on Earth caused her to propose such a thing but she forgot to scold herself for it when Harrison laughed. He rarely did that and usually when he did it was a bitter sound. This one was more amused though equally as deep and grating. But still, the lighter quality to it was beautiful and enrapturing. A little voice in her head told her to make him do it again.

"Perhaps I should get out of here if only for a moment." He responded finally. He moved away from her to grab his coat which relaxed Marla and also made her realise just how tense she had become. There was something about John Harrison that made her feel like he could and would kill her on a whim. The only thing more concerning than that was just how alluring this threatening aura seemed to be.

* * *

If he was fortunate the midnight stroll would merely be seen as John Harrison taking interest in a beautiful woman but Khan couldn't help but consider that it might also set alarm bells off with Marcus. Better yet, there was no way his agents could monitor John without being obvious and if Alex were to be the trigger for Khan's memories returning, well that would be a poor move. The Admiral was not fond of making poor moves.

Khan was taking the unmonitored opportunity to analyse London and spy out places he could disappear to if need be. He could always use the red haired woman who was escorting him but that would be somewhat obvious. She would have to be an option for patience though a good one. For all her ignorance she proved to be quite capable and useful and she would be more so when he revealed himself to her. That was entirely the plan of winning her favour. No one would expect her to aid him, such a good little mouse she was. His intention was to change that.

"Here. It's not expensive cuisine. Not sure if it's up your alley but it tastes good." She explained entering what Khan might call a fish and chip shop if the marine creatures inside had been native to Earth. From the rowdy music next door and the clearly intoxicated clients of the small business it was evidently a place lacking standards.

"Hello Marla. It's been a while. You've never brought a friend before!" A green skinned alien bellowed over his clientele to the red head giving a look to Harrison that may have been a warning to anyone else. He would never know how ludicrous the idea of threatening Khan would be.

"The usual times two Bobba." Marla exchanged with a pleasant smile. It reminded him that she was quite a beautiful woman even if insignificant. Khan was a logical man, rational and ambitious but he was not without basic wants. Ruling an empire was more satisfying but a good night with an attractive woman was an acceptable alternative at times and if need be, he could use her for that as well. From the looks she shot him when she thought he wasn't watching she would be by all means, willing.

With the meal came a blue drink that was quite to his liking and clearly alcoholic. The night drew on as they discussed various unimportant things and work. For all intents and purposes they were having a pleasant dinner as colleagues and friends. Khan could not deny he liked her company though it was a shallow kind of like that he could easily abandon when his crew were safe from harm.

More time drew on and more blue liquid was ordered. McGivers was not one to hold her liquor and after only her third glass she was a lot more open. She explained in detail that the twenty-third century lacked the colour and passion of older times, illuminating her reason for being a Historian.

"Do you know _why_ they assigned me to…_assist_ you?" She finally asked after staring at him for a good number of minutes as if she could find the answer written on his face. Clearly it was something that had been troubling her. She was right to be bothered by it too. An unimportant employee hired to watch the best of the best. Without knowledge of who he truly was it seemed like a ludicrous and pointless request. Even then, it was ridiculous.

"I haven't the faintest." He responded easily. He had his theories of course and the more he knew about her love for bold men of the past the closer he came to a cemented conclusion.

A few hours later and Marla was ready to leave. She stood swaying slightly with a mixture of inebriation and tiredness to pay her old friend for the food when one of the intoxicated men who had just returned from smoking outside stumbled in. The short dress uniform of Starfleet caught his eye and he let his hands wander. While Khan had little concern for the trivial complications of day to day life he was dissatisfied with the vulgar display of human nature. Something he had always sought to control and change. Humanity needed leadership.

Before Harrison could even consider if he should care to defend his companion, Marla struck the drunkard. She managed the blow easily enough but that just caught the attention of the other men accompanying her lecherous admirer. Trying not to growl his irritation at something so tedious, Khan stood up, stepping between the group and the woman who was disgustingly pathetic at times. He could not abide weakness.

"Thank you." She muttered when he had sent the men on their way, breaking one arm, fracturing a rib and only having to glance at the last one to make the three of them flee the building. She had the decency to look ashamed as she attempted to stumble past him.

"They assign you to watch me but you can't even handle a small group of intoxicated civilians. I'd almost think Alex was _trying_ to insult me." Khan spat a bit louder than he intended not that he had planned to say it out loud at all. The foreign sound of his own voice startled him and he frowned. Apparently he had had more to drink than he thought. He had never been inebriated before. Perhaps his engineered genetics still had to adapt to alien substances though no doubt after tonight they would have perfected his tolerance.

Marla made a disgusted noise clearly offended as she shot the older man a scathing look. She stalked out of the business quickly. A grunt from the owner made the black haired man cast a look over his shoulder that suggested he couldn't care less if he had upset the girl and yet when he heard her cry out he still found himself running for the door.

When he had made it outside he found that another patron of the neighbouring club had either taken a liking or an offence to the hopeless woman. Either way she was now on the ground. Whoever it was got a swift punch to the face before Khan scooped her up bridal style and followed her directions to her home after briefly commanding she give them to him. She tried to resist, ignore him, even scramble out of his grip but Khan had always been a dominant man and her stubbornness was childish and frail. This innocence was why he needed to protect her and get her home safely. Any interest or necessity for her future assistance aside, it would not do well to have her turn up dead or worse the morning after he was seen leaving with her. He would prefer to avoid any suspicion.

Arriving at her apartment he deemed it far lovelier than the meal he had just been treated to and he quickly decided that her pay cheques went more towards her hobbies than anything else. White clean walls in the small, modern apartment, a glass bookshelf to his right hiding a modern bedroom, a spacious kitchenette to his left and then her small lounge room before him littered with bookshelves, statues and canvases. True to their exchange the first day they met, she had paintings around the room of brilliant men all in her familiar and marvellous style. Her brush work was exquisite.

He placed her down gently forgetting his earlier disgust at her fragile existence and she limped sadly to a coffee table where she dropped her things before she noticed he had stopped in front of one particular work.

He was bathed in a sea of red, the face he remembered but not the face he had. His awe and nostalgia was bitter and a fresh wave of hatred for Marcus washed over him. What had he done to remove the face that was his? To hide him under this alias of 'John Harrison'? After a moment Khan noticed she was watching him and he decided he needed to compose the fury that was clearly writing itself all over his face.

"Do you know him?" Khan asked wondering just what this Historian knew about him. Marla stepped up beside the tormented man looking at the painting with a fondness that felt abnormal. For a brief second he was lost as he watched her taking a moment to rationalise that he no longer held the same visage and that was why she did not look at him the same way. What would she say if she knew John Harrison was this very man she seemed to admire?

"Khan Noonien Singh. He falls into my 'great men of the past' addiction." She explained with a voice that said all it needed to of her feelings towards the man. Manipulating her would be much easier than he had initially thought. "I thought they'd found him, once…maybe it was just wishful thinking." Khan looked her over, analysing the admiration on her face. It was just that she had romanticised these figures, idolised them as heroes and gods. She was living in a past that wasn't hers. She admired them and aspired to be someone worthy of them.

"How is your ankle?" Khan enquired after a moment. Marla looked away, a blush creeping onto her cheeks to match her hair. His disgust was gone replaced with sincere concern. He loathed her lack of strength but she frequently surprised him with her ability to work past her faults. Fragile as she was, even now she was showing him a brave face that advertised her potential. It was attractive.

"It will heal." She answered obviously not wanting to thank him for the offence he had caused her. Khan was not the kind to apologise so instead he left her with a polite goodbye and a promise to inform Sulu that she would not be in for a few days. Meanwhile he would brood on the face he had lost and hope that that would be all he would lose in this new world.

((A/N: Sorry about the late update. My internet went down pretty much the day I was intending to post this chapter. But here it is. I hope it is all right though I feel I have not quite captured Khan and Marla well enough. Perhaps a bit inconsistent and the building of their relationship a bit too fast paced. But my readers will let me know. Thanks for the faves, follows and review. bedb: Haha. Yeah, I don't feel I need to cure myself of this. Anyway, as always. Constructive criticism is cherished.))


	3. Chapter 3 - Open Your Heart

Chapter 3 – Open Your Heart

She had been concerned that her work would be stressful to return to. She wanted to hate John for his cruel words but unfortunately she agreed with him. She attempted albeit with feeble denial to become a stronger person for it. When she did return she had her dutiful poker face on and wore false strength like a mask. As for that night, Harrison made no mention of it other than asking about her wellbeing again when she walked in sparing her a miniscule glance before he focused on whatever it was he was doing. Sulu was more concerned when it came to the events that had left her at home, asking for every single detail. As Marla had managed to get herself intoxicated in a pitiful attempt to quell nerves her memories were somewhat fuzzy but whatever concern they had for John Harrison being out and about it did not include saving her from drunkards.

She did not mention his interest in her painting of Khan Noonien Singh. That was a curiosity she kept to herself. She had been inebriated, tired and embarrassed but she still clearly recalled the look on his face. If he had been someone else she would have thought he was on the verge of tears. But the savage rage that was barely contained on his face was wiped away with courtesy. It had frightened her and not in the usual way he did. In a way that made her want to abandon interest.

Curiosity had almost made her work on a new painting of the man from the Eugenic Wars but she had quickly abandoned it and if he wanted to see another painting of the dictator, Harrison made no mention of it.

His work was nearing completion when next he spoke to her in more than casual passing. He had just received word that the missiles had been shipped off to wherever it was they were going. She couldn't decide if she had just missed this detail or if it had been kept from her but that didn't matter.

He was staring into his glass of whiskey from his desk, silently brooding on whatever was bothering him. Marla dropped her PADD on her usual table seat and wandered over to him, stopping at one of the benches covered in spare parts, wondering if he would be leaving London. If so, would she care? Playing with the hair draped over her shoulders she could not help but know the answer. He was the closest thing to an admirable man she had ever found and in spite of how distant he was and the knowledge that he could be cruel in his superior demeanour, she didn't want to see him go.

"You rearranged your hair for me." He spoke up causing her to jump slightly. She wondered if she would ever get used to the fact he always noticed when she was staring even though he never showed it. She knew without questioning that he even detected her gaze on the occasions when he didn't speak. He was painfully observant and that only made her aware of her own inadequacy in the task that was assigned to her.

"I'm just trying a new style out." She declared sticking her chin up in a stubborn way though they both knew better. She could try and pretend he had no sway over her but it would be a fool's errand.

"It looks wonderful." He commented, finally looking away from his glass and at her. She almost thought it was sincere but that little bit of doubt that he liked her born from his harsh comment the other night had left her second guessing his every action. He shot the last of the alcohol down his throat before standing up and pulling on that coat that made him look like some antihero from a movie.

"My work here is done." He commented in a tone that suggested he was leaving. Cautiously she wondered if he was actually saying goodbye because he had any interest in her other than for his own uses. "You will have to take your paintings home, I don't think they'd approve." He said almost bitterly as he looked over to a few he had mounted on the walls that he had liked. Marla glanced to them and felt a small swell of pride in her stomach. The first time he had asked her if he could hang one of her works on the wall she had been giddy with glee even if her modesty left her face red.

"If I were to be bold I'd say you're the closest thing to attain their…energy in a long time. You could have anything you want." The red haired woman complimented not letting her face display the mixture of emotions swirling inside of her. She had really grown to like the man across from her in spite of his verbal bite. The intoxicating air around him that was so magnetic was impossible to resist. Of course harsh words can do a world of good to infatuation and her interest had toned down a fair deal but it was still there to bring her disappointment at his loss. John laughed at her flattery. One of his bitter laughs that suggested there was irony in what she said though she missed what it was.

"Ambitious men take what they want, don't they?" He responded as he approached her. She shuddered when his fingers ran through her hair and dusted her neck, stroking it in a way that sent an electric impulse through her body. It was all she could do to stop herself from shivering with excitement. "Farewell Marla McGivers." He spoke up, pressing his lips to hers before she could respond. Then without warning he was gone, beamed up by a ship she had to guess. The empty space where he once stood was lonely and cold. How could she care like this for a man she had known so little about and for such a short time?

* * *

He knew the kiss was the sealing of her allegiance to him. She was infatuated even after his blunder and would be more so when she eventually knew his real identity. He could use that when he and his seventy-two crew members were all safely away while he prepared his people to survive in the new century. She would be his key to succeeding in amassing his new empire. He ignored the hum of a voice deep in the back of his mind that suggested there was something more to it.

Before he joined his successfully smuggled group he had one last visit to make in San Francisco.

He let himself into Marcus' home; sitting in a lounge chair He was poised to confront the man and waited patiently as the sun began to set casting a golden glow about the room. It was disappointing that this light was not cast by fire. A pity but one day he could hope to see the world burn so that new life could be born from the ashes, superior life.

"Hello Admiral. What a lovely home you have." Khan commented as Marcus entered the room in a dressing gown with a towel draped over his shoulders indicating he had just left the shower and was foolishly relaxed. He lowered the PADD he had been inspecting and looked to Khan in alarm that was so satisfying to the genetically designed man. Khan noticed Alex's thumb twitching towards things on his screen and he smirked in amusement.

"There is no point calling security. They can't hear you. Nobody can. I disabled the systems, both public and oh-so-private." Khan clarified with suppressed rage in his voice.

"What's this about, John?" The Admiral enquired foolishly attempting to stick to his ruse. It was all Khan could do to keep from laughing and breaking the man's bones in irritation but he managed. He remained outwardly calm and collected.

"'John'? Must we persist with this charade? You know who I really am. More to the point, at long last _I know_ who I really am." Khan declared poised as if the exchange of words was a chess game and he was carefully planning out all his moves.

"So you're here to kill me." Marcus responded. It wasn't a question. A statement that he seemed awfully calm about though that could be attributed to military training. For a high ranking officer of an operation dedicated to exploration he was remarkably prepared for war.

"Not until you tell me _everything_." Khan warned. He needed an explanation for his memory loss, his new face. Oh, he could guess why but poison was so much sweeter from someone else's lips. "Begin. Now. From the moment you found me."

Marcus detailed the events. Finding the ship, the caution they took when waking him. How simple and thoughtless it was to change his face and then they played with his mind. Each word that spilled out of the Admiral's mouth sent a fresh wave of hatred and disgust through Khan until it was boiling inside of him. His intellect was tossed aside for raw emotion as, in the blink of an eye, he had stood up and lifted the military man from the ground clenching his hand over his throat.

"You _butchered _me!" He growled tightening his grip as Marcus gurgled words out.

"Looks like…you're not as…_stealthy_…as you think…" He declared and it was then that Khan noticed the two red lines aimed at his chest, gunships outside Marcus' windows ready to fire. He dropped Alex and it quickly became clear that none of his plans had gone as smoothly as he had thought. Despair overtook him as the Admiral explained that they had taken his seventy-two crew members and hidden them away again. They were to be used as bargaining chips, as chains so that Alex could use Khan as long as he dared. Marcus tried to reason, to persuade Khan to join his cause without twisting his arm but ambitious men take what they want and rarely accept what they are given as charity. Khan was too proud for that even if he had not despised the man before him.

"You've forgotten that I can come and go as I please now, Admiral." Khan reminded him as he activated the personal transporter. He wanted to crush Marcus' skull then and there but he knew he had no chance. In spite of his healing ability he would be dead. "The next time we meet…will be the last." Khan warned just as he was taken from the room.

He was transported and hidden in the one place they would never go. Kronos. After all, if they needed his help to fight the Klingons why would they risk entering their territory just to get him back? It had been the perfect escape route and one he had never wanted to use. He had planned it as a caution but that was all it had been. He had memorised the coordinates on the planet immediately after regaining his memories so he could return if need be. Now he was there, alone, his crew in the hands of the enemy. Despair overtook him and Khan roared into the empty air with fury and sorrow. Rage gave way to tears as he dropped to his knees, mourning the loss of his companions.

Khan's actions would have made it clear to Admiral Marcus that he could not control the genetically engineered warriors. If he could not control them and could not use them to control Khan then they were just a liability. An inconvenience that the Admiral would have to get rid of. Khan didn't need to confirm this. It was the only logical conclusion. Nothing was stopping Marcus and why not? They were all ready in their conveniently explosive containers to be disposed of. He would be the last of his people. But true to his promise, Khan would ensure that Marcus _would_ pay. For every single member of his crew, his family, Marcus and Starfleet would suffer tenfold. With thoughts of vengeance in his mind he used his small handheld device one last time knowing that the Admiral would disable the main machine to limit his movements. He needed to be in London as he planned out his next move.

He deactivated the hand held part of the mechanism so he could not be traced, stalking the shady streets of the city. A man tried to mug him and had his throat ripped out for his mistake. Laughter turned to screams as he broke bones. It was reckless but he was furious and it took him a long time to calm enough to reason with himself that he did not need the unwanted attention of someone investigating murders. He had work to do if he wanted to have his vengeance.

* * *

Not long after Harrison had left in that mysterious and unforgettable way Marla had been approached by Lieutenant Sulu. The details were not given to someone as insignificant as her but it was made clear that John Harrison had gone rogue. It was very hush, hush. She was only told because she had directly worked with the man. McGivers was interrogated for information though unless they wanted to know which food he liked best, his interest in her paintings or how his lips felt pressed against hers there was little point in asking Marla all the questions they did. Everything he did had been beyond her. Her incomprehension of him was probably the only reason her surprise at hearing he had become treasonous was dulled. She should have been horrified but the minute she had a second to think about it she only came to realise how little she knew about him.

Once the higher ups were done with questioning the red head she was put on 'extended leave'. At least she was still getting paid so she could not hold all that much resentment for it. She got to spend her time at home, painting. Perhaps her time around Harrison and his enigmatic and observant ways was what made her notice the people following her whenever she left. Either way she had taken to spending all her time at home trying not think about him.

Marla was working on a painting of Alexander when she heard a noise. She glanced over her shoulder with the intention to dismiss it when her eyes grew wide with fear and excitement. John Harrison was standing in her kitchen looking at her in a ferocious and pleasing way that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't even notice she had dropped her paintbrush.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in a harsh whisper when he took a step forward, glancing to her door and then over her shoulder at the great big window that was the entrance to her balcony. The curtains she had there for privacy's sake were shut so it would be impossible to see him through that door. Harrison took another step forward and she backed up though only slightly. If he were as dangerous as she had been warned it would only take Marla a second to run out onto her balcony and he would be discovered. No doubt a man as intelligent as he would know that.

"I need your help." He answered. If he was concerned she would betray him he made no sign of it. She wondered cautiously what _she_ of all people could help him with. He had already made it clear on that cruel night what he thought of her. The disapproval had hurt but she couldn't blame him for it.

"They want you taken in, John. I'm on leave because they're worried I was part of whatever it was you did." She responded making it clear she was not so foolish as to help without explanation. But she knew that he would have picked up on the fact she had not gone running out. He knew it was only a matter of saying the right words. She did not expect what those words would be.

"My name is not 'John', Marla." He said or more spat. His dislike for that title was clear. He wandered from the kitchen, circling her and checking that the blinds she had closed to keep Starfleet from watching her had no openings through which he could be spotted. "My name…is Khan." He concluded looking back to her. He had positioned himself beside her red painting. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she glanced between the two images, both real and her artwork. He looked nothing like the man she longed after in books but his mere presence made her doubt that he was lying.

"How?" She asked after a long moment not knowing which question to ask first. He glanced to his old image with that same bitterness that now seemed to make sense.

"Admiral Marcus found me out in deep space. Once he knew what I was he sought a way to control me. Initially that was to erase my memory and change my face. Unfortunately for him I am superior to man and regained my memories. When I found my crew members in his possession I _attempted _to rescue them. But I was discovered." He explained growling the words out with distaste. Marla slowly approached him, reaching out a hand to touch the very pale face, the high cheekbones, and the man that was so different. John or Khan did not shy away. He let her inspect him as if that would clarify his words as truth. He looked nothing like the man he once was but his ferocity was there. This was why he had hated her painting portraits of 'John'. A face designed for him by a man he so clearly despised.

"I don't think you're going to like living in our time." She commented as she withdrew her hand. His eyes were moist again. For all his strength and rage there was also a great deal of grief consuming him.

"My crew are dead." He stated after a long moment of staring somewhere behind her. "Will you assist me?" He asked again looking down at Marla with that intimidating stare. She wanted to say yes, she really did. This man before her was Khan; she did not doubt it now. But whatever insignificant way she could _help_ him would be dangerous, cruel and violent. For all her love of men from the past she was not a killer. She was not even the beginnings of one.

"Please Khan, please don't ask me." She begged tears springing to her eyes as well. The disappointment on his face was like a physical blow. A muscle twitched in his cheek and she knew that he was angry with her. He went to walk around her, to walk away but she caught his wrist. In seconds he had removed her grip and placed his strong one over her arm. The pain caused her to drop down, kneeling before him. "I'm sorry, I'll do anything you ask, I promise!" She cried out somewhere between her fear of being hurt by him and her fear of being abandoned by the first and last man she would ever truly adore. She had wanted an opportunity like this for so long that losing him would destroy her. Obsession would not permit her to just let him walk out of her life.

"Open your heart." He commanded her. His grip had been strong and painful mere seconds ago. But now it was gentle and kind. A part of her knew it was just for the sake of controlling her but another part of Marla didn't care. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She wanted to push away, to tell him 'no' but she was intoxicated by that energy that always seemed to emit from him. He brushed the tears from her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers in gratitude or reward. She could not decide which. Each touch of his skin sent an electric wave through her and her resistance became feeble and pointless. How could she refuse a man she had admired all her life?

* * *

He watched her sleeping. She was curled up in the bed they had both been in seconds ago. She looked at peace though he knew better. She had doubts, ones he had not expected. He had thought she would never refuse him but she had tried. That in itself was impressive. He had seen her merely as a tool for his ambitions but now he wondered if perhaps he would take her with him when his revenge was complete. She was stronger than he anticipated and had believed. Not to mention she truly was beautiful. He had to admit he enjoyed rewarding her for her obedience. It was a nice distraction from his intention to destroy Admiral Marcus.

Thinking of such things sent a fresh wave of rage and hatred through him. The kind of anger that made him lose all other sensation. His crew were dead. He had nothing left in this world. She was right in commenting that he would not like this time. Defiantly he wanted to mould it to his liking but fury drowned that ambition. Now all he wanted to do was annihilate it. To destroy everything. Little else mattered anymore. When Marcus was positioned right where he needed him Khan would end him and everyone else of importance within Starfleet. The new century would learn to fear him.

Breathing deep to calm his rising anger he instead returned to sleep. He could work on the other necessities for instigating his plans later. It would be a while before Marla could return to work and be of use to him for more than superficial reasons.

((A/N: If you spot any horrendous spelling or grammar mistakes let me know because to work out the flow of the last chapter into this one I read the last couple of paragraphs and found some truly atrocious ones. Seriously just throw dictionaries at me or belt me into a near death state with them. That aside I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. It was an entertaining one to write though again I am still worried I'm not capturing them perfectly. Thanks for the faves, follows and review. bedb: Madlyn was 35? O.O I thought she was in her early 20s just from looking at her. Thanks for the trivia. I didn't know it was confirmed as canon but it's been quite a while (read: decades) since I've watched the old stuff and the only thing I did in preparation for this was re-watch Space Seed. Thanks again. As always, constructive criticism is cherished.))


	4. Chapter 4 - You're Late

Chapter 4 – You're Late

It had been a few months since he had taken up residency in her home. He disappeared frequently with use of his exceptional skills at stealth undetected by those who watched her apartment. Sometimes he would be gone for days. She was never sure how to feel about this. Pathetically she was attached to him and would cry when her bed was empty. She was still as weak as ever.

She was almost certain now it was being around Harrison, no Khan, and his easy observance that made her notice she was no longer being watched a short time before she was permitted to return to work. They had deemed her too insignificant for him to approach. That was exactly why he had chosen her. She wanted to take offence but she knew they were right.

Khan commanded her to find a way into the base below for him. He knew he couldn't send her, she didn't have any clearance and he needed to get closer to the source than she could. She needed to find someone who had something they would do anything for. She didn't even know how to do that. With each night that she returned home without a solution he became more and more angry. His savage rage was something that terrified her and soon she became worn. Tabitha noticed it. An old colleague who was the closest thing to a friend to the red haired woman who had been habitually reclusive in her obsessions. Per chance it was only because the young brunette was an overly friendly and caring human being. Marla didn't really make friends herself.

"Hey, want to have lunch with me?" The young girl offered looking over her with green eyes filled with concern. Marla sighed and nodded her head though she knew she could not talk about what was distressing her. Tabitha tried to worm it out of the red head of course but she met with a brick wall. After some time she sat back in defeat.

"You're almost as bad as Thomas." She commented. This caught Marla's attention who looked up from the coffee she hadn't been drinking. "His daughter is really sick. The doctor's can't do anything. It would take a miracle for her to wake up from her coma. He just looks so…_sad_." Tabitha explained with that same pity she'd held for the woman before her now displayed towards this unknown man.

When they returned to work Marla looked over what she could of the man's file. Thomas Harewood. Obviously worked for Section 31 due to the giant gaps in his dossier and her restricted access. The red haired woman waited behind to watch him leave late in the night. Tabitha was right to an extent although Marla felt the better word to describe him was dead. The sorrow on his face was the kind that took the life out of him. He would be Khan's key to whatever it was that he was planning and Marla's salvation from her misery for disappointing a man she should not worship.

"You're late." Khan greeted when she finally made it home. He had been gone when she had left that morning so she was unsure when he might have returned. Any sane person would feel sad for what she was about to do but obsession is a powerful delusion. She could not hide the eager smile from her face though mentally she scolded herself for it. She was a fool trying to please a man who could never love her the way she worshipped him.

"I found a man today." She began, unpinning her hair and letting the red locks fall down over her shoulders. Khan looked toward her in an intrigued way as she sauntered over and sat on his lap. "His daughter is in a coma though truth be told; he looks like _he_ should be in hospital." She concluded as the powerful man before her took hold of her waist with his strong hands. A pleased smile crossed his lips. He rewarded her that night.

Khan was satisfied. He left the red haired woman asleep in her bed, messy locks framing her face in a beautiful and alluring way. But he had something much more tempting. Bypassing security and even the digital surveillance put in place especially for him, he looked over John Harewood's complete file and that of his wife and daughter. He almost laughed aloud. It was just so convenient as if the Universe was handing him opportunity on a silver platter. It wasn't a trap, that he checked for thoroughly after his failed attempts with Marcus. He hated to admit even to himself but he had made mistakes and been outwitted. He would not let that happen twice.

As he was putting on his coat he glanced to Marla once more. She was hopelessly infatuated. It was useful and yet a little disappointing. He liked her more when she was angry and defiant. For a brief moment he recognised the regret in his musings. Ambitious, cruel and painfully narcissistic, he was not beyond care. There was a genetically engineered woman in his memories that had perished in his arms that could attest to that. But he respected strength and Marla had a long way to go before he would hesitate to use her to achieve his goals.

He disappeared to a laboratory he had found awfully convenient to use. Rarely monitored, the scientists there disappointingly unobservant and the place always abandoned at night. It was the perfect location for him to research how he could cure this young girl. Without direct access to her and her condition there was little he could do in concocting a chemical formula. Fortunately for him he had been designed for perfection. His own body had proven to him on countless occasions that it was capable of healing deadly wounds. The key then was how he could use his blood to save someone else's life.

He had samples of live tissue at the laboratory and under microscope he could observe his blood bringing dead cells back to life but he quickly realised the effects were temporary. He could still use it if it was necessary but Khan however savage and angry he was, however ruthless, was still a man of his word. If he were to promise this man to heal his sick daughter in exchange for something important than he would cure her.

Some weeks later not long after the New Year had arrived he found success. But this was with samples. He needed a test subject, some way to gauge how much he would need and if it truly did work on a permanent basis. One last use of a now pointless tool.

* * *

She returned early from work, feigning illness. In truth she was just sad. Since she had given that name to Khan he had been gone. Nothing had changed in Thomas' demeanour so she knew he had not been approached by the man from her one-sided love. She took note of Thomas every time she saw him as if he were some key, some link to her idol. He was still as miserable as ever and that was contagious.

She sighed when she entered her empty apartment quickly going over to her latest painting. In spite of Khan's objections she was working on a portrait of his image as he was now. He hated the face he saw in the mirror, that was clear but she had grown to adore it. It was hard for her to even think of the face he should have had. Regardless of his outward appearance he was just as magnificent as she would expect of the man and that was frustratingly intoxicating. For all her dreams of being strong and independent she was as pathetically vulnerable at times. He would break past her frail façade and command her without hesitation with the understanding that she would do anything asked of her if he was the one to demand it.

Lost in her brooding she did not even notice when he entered the room. She jumped when strong arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled into the back of her neck. His hot breath on her skin sent energy through her and she turned in his arms stealing a kiss from his lips. It was moments like these she couldn't tell if he actually cared for her or was still just using her for his own designs. She got her confirmation.

It was white hot pain that made her gasp and stare at him in surprise. Looking down in shock she saw the blade he had driven into her abdomen. Seeing it only made the burning sensation increase, bile rising in her throat as she looked up to Khan in accusation, shock and wonder. He caught her as her legs gave way, taking her gently to the ground. She had done everything for him, she worshipped him and now he was killing her. Was he afraid she would give him away? Did he think she would approach Admiral Marcus and tell him everything? Her questions were swallowed up in delirium. Insurmountable pain drowning out her comprehension of the world around her. She was only spared from it when cold, quiet unconsciousness embraced her snatching her away from physical and emotional agony.

* * *

The effects were immediate but unfortunately regaining consciousness took a lot longer than he preferred. He could not analyse the aspect of his cure being permanent. His blood would of course eventually leave her bloodstream ensuring he didn't create any further super humans with it by mistake which was why he needed to test his theory out. Dealing a lethal blow to the woman was the easiest and quickest way to trial this. He could still remember the look in her eyes when he had done it. He wondered, for all her love of him, would she still worship him now?

A sharp intake of breath alerted him that she had finally awoken. He moved to stand in the doorway of her bedroom, the light from the room behind him concealing his visage in darkness. She looked around disorientated and he waited patiently until realisation spread across her face and she sat up quickly, reaching to her stomach in horror. But where there had been a horrific wound was now only a minor injury already on its way to becoming a scar. She at last looked toward him with an expression far more emotionally hurt than she had been physically.

"You stabbed me." She stated with grief and disbelief mixing and overflowing in her voice. He didn't need to see her tears reflecting the light behind him to know they were there. Slowly he approached her.

"I needed to test if my solution would work." He explained with patience. He didn't really need to clarify anything; it was more a courtesy in gratitude for the assistance she had been. He may have found her weak but she was useful and displayed signs of strength at times. She could be moulded into something far superior given the opportunity. He was almost tempted to be the maker of her strength however dreams of vengeance permitted no distractions however lovely they might be.

When he went to inspect her healing wound, seating himself on the side of her bed, she slapped his hand away in disgust. She succeeded for the fact he had never expected her to strike him. Khan tilted his head giving her a stern look and she shot him one that was scathing. The next time Marla tried to stop him he held both her wrists in one hand before lifting up her shirt. The wound had healed to the extent she would not even be feeling pain in her muscles.

"There. Whatever you did worked. You don't need me anymore, _go_." She snarled at him trying to yank her hands free of his grip. She was unsuccessful. He found her anger quite attractive and he had to stop himself from smirking in delight.

"I still need to ensure it is permanent." He informed her. This only proved to anger her further when Khan granted her with the knowledge that he didn't care in the slightest if she died. He removed himself from her bed stalking out of the room leaving Marla to her grief. All he had to do was observe so he left her alone. She moped in her bedroom for most of the time as he waited for certainty. When she thought he had left she destroyed the paintings of him she had created both the face he hated and the one he had once had. She was just about to destroy that magnificent red artwork when he stopped her. He was angry at her actions but he noted that some part of him despaired for her hatred.

On the twenty-third day of February he finally approached her again to inspect the wound. It had healed completely and the tests he ran, not entirely with her cooperation, signified that his cure would work. He would finally be able to set his plan in motion to destroy Starfleet and make Admiral Marcus pay for what he had done to Khan's family.

But when he went to go he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the red haired woman. She was weak, insignificant and yet he could not leave her hating him the way she was. What was this preposterous notion inside of him that she was in any way important? She had always been a tool, none of his affections real. Yes, sometimes her use had been to please him but plenty of other beautiful women could fill that role and yet here he was watching her.

She would not look at him. Marla instead watched empty space from the chair she was seated in with a coldness he had planted inside of her. A rage that could shape her into a strong person given the chance, the ambition to grow into someone powerful and marvellous. Something he believed she had always wanted. Part of her admiration for ambitious individuals was to obtain that strength herself and now tenacity was an ember inside of her waiting for a breath of fresh air to flare it up and breathe life and power into the flames. He went to approach her but stopped when those cold brown eyes were finally directed towards him. He was not intimidated, just curious.

"Your experiment is over, isn't it? You can go now." She told him. He doubted that the lack of care she was trying to imply was real. She may have hated him for what he had done but she had also adored him. That could not be destroyed so easily. Obsession was a cancer difficult to cut out though in humour, he had tried. Khan decided at that moment that underneath her weakness was a strength he could acknowledge openly.

"I am sorry, Marla." He stated almost surprising himself with the words. They had the exact response he had intended however as rage was replaced by unguarded astonishment on the woman's face. She didn't stop him when he approached her, kneeling before the chair she was seated in. He found to his own curiosity in that instance that he could not permit her to be a casualty in his designs for vengeance. "Let me make it up to you." He offered taking hold of her hands. Her surprise gone, it was replaced with cautious mistrust and just the smallest hint of hope. "I have a few more things I have to do before I am done but meet me at the docking bay on the morning of the twenty-sixth and we can go away to another planet. Just for a little while." He instructed. After a long moment she nodded. She was not being fickle. It was not that she had forgiven him but she was offering him the chance to make her forgive him. He respected that although he also found it amusing. He dusted a chaste kiss on her forehead in farewell wondering why this insignificant woman was important to him and exactly how she had made herself to be.

* * *

Every morning she woke up from the burning ghost of the dagger he had stabbed her with. The blade slicing through her flesh like a hot knife through butter. She could not decide if it was a testament to his strength, the blade's edge or the softness of her skin. Upon realising what she was contemplating Marla decided she had spent too much time around her beloved. It was inhuman to be analysing such things when she should be despising a strong individual who clearly used her and had experimented on her without remorse. Or so it had seemed. Was this invitation repentance? Or was it another test? Did he want to know if she still worshipped him? Would still do anything he asked?

She knew the answer to that. Khan could no doubt talk her into committing treason. She would try to resist, to refuse to let harm befall others but her weakness wanted his approval too desperately to stay true to her heart regardless of what he had done. Admiration drowned out hatred though her hurt rage had dulled her appreciation of his strength. She still wanted nothing more than to be by his side and that was why she was filling a suitcase with various articles of clothing. He had appeared genuinely apologetic and she wanted desperately for that to be honest truth. Going on this trip would be her clarity or it would be the point where she finally broke. Rationality preferred it be the latter but unfortunately it was her heart that led her actions through her life. Her heart was a fickle, foolish thing.

She had not seen him in the few days since he had disappeared. Whatever his plans were, whatever he was doing she was no longer a part of it. She should have felt relieved but instead she was afraid. He was a dangerous man and whatever had occurred between him and the Admiral had not soothed his savagery. He was designed for war and Marla feared that perhaps that was his intent.

Walking into the lobby dressed in tight fit jeans, brown ankle boots and a deep green halter neck top with a white cardigan to keep away the cool air, she chewed her bottom lip in concern. Why would someone like that apologise to her? Even cast her a second glance? Khan had always played with her like a child. People were inferior to him, why would she be any different? She was a stepping stone for his ambitions and little else. Yet at times he seemed to respect her, to acknowledge that there was more to the red haired woman than a frail fool with odd obsessions. Then she would wonder and permit him to play whatever game it was that had concluded in sending her to the lobby of a station.

She shouldn't be here, she knew that deep down. Watching the other people go about their business completely oblivious to the brown eyed woman standing alone there with her bag. She should tell someone about him, find out what he was doing exactly. Absently she slipped a hand under her shirt to trace the scar on her stomach. It reminded her that he was ruthless. In spite of that she still cared for him.

Marla was stolen from her inner musings when a breaking news announcement was made on the terminals littered about the area. People slowed in their rushed comings and goings, mesmerised by what was displayed.

"…an explosion has occurred at the Kelvin Memorial Archive today causing the tragic loss of 42 lives…" The woman on the vid screen explained the rest of her words turning to white noise in Marla's ears as she stared in horror at the images accompanying the report. She was never close to any of her colleagues but some of them were good people. Kind people. They were amongst the list of the dead, lives destroyed by a man she should have stopped. She did not doubt it was him for even a second, the man who had requested she be somewhere else. She should have been at work; she should have been _there_ in that pile of rubble. Possibly injured, maybe even dead. Her dulled senses slowly came back to life as she realised this, her heart rate increasing as she felt suddenly short of breath.

Had he saved her? Had he deliberately sent her away for her sake? Or was there some other motive? Some reason, angle she could not fathom? Questions scrambled into her mind like a million angry insects swarming all rational thought. She was barely even aware she had turned around and run, suitcase abandoned to a life that was a delusion. Her weakness, her naivety left alone in a lobby because there was no coming back from this. She would need all the strength she aspired to possess to overcome whatever hurdles were raised from what he had done. What she had let him do.

((A/N: Sorry about the late post. Life and all. Onto my thoughts then. This entire fic I have been uncertain of. I feel like I jump around too much and am somewhat inconsistent in how I write this pair. This chapter is the poster child for those feelings but ah well. Thank you all for the reviews, they bring me warm, silly happy feels. PinkytheCorpse: I've never watched Primeval but I did a quick google and might add her to my list. Glad my readers are noting my links to the comics and Space Seed too. ;) SirOlives: In answer to your question I guess the best way to describe the relationship I'm building in this fic is sowing the seeds for something a lot deeper than the superficial relationship of obsession and use. Again, thank you all and per usual. Constructive criticism is cherished.))


	5. Chapter 5 - A Comforting Lie

Chapter 5 – A Comforting Lie

Her lungs burned and her legs ached. She had never been big on being more physically fit than she needed to be. Perhaps she should change that. Go back to Starfleet Academy and do some training. If her life was still in enough pieces to do that mind you.

She smelt it before she saw it. Metallic smoke that did little to ease her breathing. She tried to get close but men stopped her, ignoring her wheezed mutterings that she had worked there, had friends there. The last part was mostly a lie but that didn't stop her from feeling sad. She had always known what Khan was, what kind of man but somehow it never sunk in that his ruthlessness was real. Not even when he had stabbed her. Now she saw it on display like a horrific artistic testament to his rage and ambition.

Her gaze swept over what she could see of the rubble and she confirmed that Khan was definitely no longer there. Some childish thought made her wonder if he would have returned to her home. Her legs felt like jelly, struggling to keep her standing but she forced them to move. She barely even registered that she was crying until she stumbled into her empty apartment. But what caused her weeping? Was it the death and destruction, the cruel actions of one man or was it the fact that she knew she would never see him again? The former let her retain her humanity if she would let herself believe it was the reason. The latter would mean she was detestable. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Leaning on her front door that separated her from the rest of the world, she dropped to the ground audibly crying now. Why had he saved her? Was it gratitude? Did he have further plans for her? She didn't want to be a tool and she didn't want his appreciation. She wanted his love. That alone made her hate herself. He had just murdered forty-two people, one a loving parent of a girl who was going to have to live with the stigma of what her father had done. She didn't even know why. His vengeance was wild and savage, harming all but the Admiral who had murdered his people or so it seemed. She could not comprehend it. She tried to for a while. Tried to rationalise his actions into something redeeming. How could she let him do something so horrible? It went against her moral compass. She should have stood up to him, stopped him.

After a long while of struggling with her inner musings, she decided tears were for the feeble and she was done telling herself she was frail. The trails left behind by weakness leaving her body sparkled in the moonlight. She was still sitting on her floor staring at nothing. With a tired sigh she pushed herself up from the ground, dawdling to her bathroom on autopilot. The hot water streaming over her body felt like it was washing away her ignorance and her misgivings or at least she liked to think it was. But then again she had always worn fake confidence as armour even against herself. Hopefully this time it wasn't so frail.

She didn't want to stay in her apartment. That red painting stared at her accusingly, whispering that she could have stopped this. She pulled on a cream, turtleneck sweater, some skinny grey jeans, and combat boots. She tied her wet, curly hair in a lazy side ponytail and stalked out the door.

"The usual Bobba." She declared when she walked into that dingy little restaurant. On second thought she ordered a whole bottle of the blue alcohol deciding she would need it tonight.

"Marla! It's so good to see you! I thought I'd lost my prettiest customer when I saw the news!" He greeted, genuinely pleased to see the girl safe from harm. He noticed the redness of her eyes and decided not to press the matter, leaving her to the booth she took up in a corner of the building drinking more than she ate. She stared into her glass listening to the ghosts of discussions, arguments and a drunken insult. He had been disgusted by her once. Yet for some reason he had spared her.

* * *

It had been so very easy. Once again, he had _almost_ succeeded in killing the man he despised so fervently. And yet the opportunity slipped out of his grasp repeatedly like a fool grasping at air. Stolen from him by a young man with a certain brilliance he had not anticipated. It was infuriating and recklessly his rage bought the attention of the distant inhabitants of the section of the Klingon Homeworld he was hiding on. Never mind. They would be distracted soon. No doubt he would be traced and Marcus would do everything in his power to eliminate him. Like a player moving the chess pieces, he studied his opponent's actions.

Marcus would send someone after him, someone to wipe him out if he didn't come personally. He didn't hide on Qo'noS because he thought no one would come. It was more because he _knew_ someone would. Admiral Marcus would jump at the opportunity to start the war he so desperately craved. Khan could only hope that the Admiral would deem it necessary to do the job himself.

Hidden in the shadows, the genetically superior man prepared himself for combat. If his pursuer was not the Admiral he could always use them to get to his target. As he prepped his weapons he found his mind wandering. He wondered how she had responded to the news, what she was doing. She would be sad, she would weep but she would also be angry. He found that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Her passionate nature was remarkable and he found himself longing for her reproach and the absolution that always followed it.

His train of thought was derailed when a transmission was broadcast to his general position. He froze, gazing forward as if he were staring down his enemy.

"Attention John Harrison." It began, his mind seething at the name provided for him by that despicable man. "This is Captain Hikaru Sulu of the _USS Enterprise_. A shuttle of _highly _trained officers is on its way to your location. If you do not surrender to them immediately, I will unleash the entire payload of advanced, long ranged torpedoes currently locked on to your location." The rest of the words the captain threatened him with trailed off into the white noise of hope. Could Marcus really have held off on using them? Could he really have been foolish enough to trust someone to use them to annihilate him whose moral code clearly said otherwise? Tears of joy welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill but they were pushed back by rationalisation. He needed to confirm this advanced weaponry were the capsules for his people and even then, he needed to save them, to save his family from ever being used against him again.

* * *

Relief and joy were suppressed by the tactician's mind he was designed for. The numbers confirmed it; Marcus had sent the _USS Enterprise_ after him to kill him with his own people. It would have been poetic had he not chosen the wrong person to do it. For all his anger, this young captain who had stopped him on Earth had less ruthlessness than he was trying to convey. Khan paced his cell, analysing his surroundings, the crew members he could see and had seen. The ship wasn't moving. He could feel it. So was that what Marcus was playing at? Two birds with one stone.

"Put your arm through the hole. I'm gonna take a blood sample." The new man stated when Khan was approached in his confinement. He hesitated a moment before complying.

"Why aren't we moving, Captain?" He questioned glancing to Kirk who clearly wanted to harm him but seemed to have enough sense to know something was wrong. "An unexpected malfunction, perhaps in the warp core?" He continued. While the young man held his poker face the doctor did not. "Conveniently stranding you on the edge of Klingon space." He concluded.

"How'd the hell you know that?" The doctor enquired looking at him with horror.

"Bones." The young man warned.

"I think you'd find my insight valuable, Captain." He offered. Regardless of how Kirk felt about him, Khan had definitely caught his curiosity. He tried hard to hide it but it was there, even as he walked away. "Ignore me and you will get everyone on this ship killed." Khan threatened. The Vulcan spoke quietly to him, clearly warning the young man against being antagonised. His persuasion failed as the blue eyed man stalked up to the glass wall separating him from liberation and retaliation.

"Let me explain what's happening here." The captain spoke with barely restrained fury. "You are a criminal. I watched you murder innocent men and women. I was authorised to _end _you and the only reason you are _still _alive is because I am allowing it. So shut. Your. Mouth." He warned with rage not so far separated from Khan's own. Someone he cared for had died in that initial attack. It did nothing to intimidate the genetically superior man behind the glass wall.

"Captain, are you going to punch me again, over and over until your arm weakens? Clearly you want to, so tell me. Why did you allow me to live?" He taunted reading Kirk like a book.

"We all make mistakes." He answered, trying to brush it off. Khan could not keep amusement from slipping onto his face as he glanced to his side.

"No. I surrendered to you because, despite your attempt to convince me otherwise, you seem to have a conscious, Mr Kirk. If you did not than it would be impossible for me to convince you of the truth. Two, three, one, seven. Four, six, one, one. Coordinates not far from Earth." Khan teased, dangling the bait before his prey. "If you want to know why I did what I did, go and take a look."

"Give me one reason why I should listen to you." Kirk responded though Khan felt he needed no more persuasion.

"I can give you seventy-two. And they're on board your ship, Captain. They have been all along. I suggest you open one up." It was all he could do to keep the grief from his voice. He was so close to being able to save them. To being reunited with his people.

* * *

Her coffee steamed in the fading afternoon light, warming her hands wrapped absently around the mug. Her cream sweater was flecked with paint, the remnants of her latest work. It was hard to believe it had only been a short time since the archive had been destroyed. Since the attack on Starfleet. She wondered how many more people would die. What next news bulletin was to be a knife in her heart? Thoughtlessly she traced the scar on her stomach before abandoning the unfinished coffee on the outside table.

Stepping inside the news became white noise once she confirmed it spoke of no new attacks. Instead she focused on her latest painting. Khan, the new Khan, stood amongst fire and ash, the background a mixture of reds, yellows, oranges, greys and black. It swirled around him like the destructive chaos he was prone to. She had hated him for that fleeting moment in her life after he had created her scar. But to her shame, she could not stop loving him.

Her gaze darted to her audio device when words filtered in through her thoughts. _San Francisco, Starship, Crash_…There was no doubt in her mind. She quickly turned her vid display on, flicking through worthless channels until she saw what she wanted. A colossal Starship sat upright in San Francisco Bay in ruin. Her eyes flitted over the bystanders searching for someone with purpose, ambition and ruthless determination. She saw nothing but that did not stop her from rushing out the door barely prepared for a trip away from home.

She had to speak to him. She needed the clarity of seeing him once more. Of knowing if his sparing her meant she was worthy in his eyes. And most importantly, she had to tell him to stop. No more people needed to die.

It took her longer than she preferred to get to San Francisco. They weren't exactly expecting people to come running to disaster. She was still on her way there when the news confirmed that the rogue Starship agent, left unnamed and never shown, was confirmed captured by the crew of the _USS Enterprise_. Even so, she prepared herself as if she were to see him. She arranged her hair the way he liked it and traded her paint stained clothes for a red halter neck complimented by black jeans, a cream jacket and red-brown ankle boots.

The first place she stopped at was the crash site. It was sectioned off of course, trying to keep away the reporters and anyone who might try and salvage the technology. She tried to imagine the carnage and pandemonium that had resulted in San Francisco's latest art piece. Vengeful rage.

The next place she went to was Starfleet Headquarters. They would be keeping his trial on a need to know basis, something for Starfleet members situated in the area but that wouldn't stop her from trying to see him. Attempting at even a glance of the man she still adored. People rushed about on their various tasks, flitting in and out of view but none of those she saw were who she was looking for. She sighed in defeat, staring out to sea but seeing nothing as tears welled in her eyes. She had been a civilian since Khan's attacks. Even if she requested to attend the trial, they would not allow it.

* * *

He was captured but it had been a long enough time for him to no longer desire freedom to utilise his rage in annihilation. Like the infuriating Captain Kirk, he had been made aware of certain things. His crew were still alive. For a second time in his life he had believed they were gone when the torpedoes exploded on the _USS Vengeance_. He had tried, fruitlessly, to crash the useless ship into San Francisco in an attempt to kill as many as people as possible for the pain of loss he had to suffer. Then he had tried to escape to regroup, to prepare for further revenge but Mr Spock had been far less logical and more emotional than Khan had expected. No matter, that was all in the past now. Soon he would discover if he would be put to death, punished in some other way or if he could persuade his judgement to be that which he wanted. To be returned to his people.

His escort arrived to lead him to his trial. His presence was kept mostly hidden, leading him through buildings to avoid being spotted by reporters but for a brief moment he was in open air again. No desire to flee lest he be separated from his family once more; he merely surveyed the surrounding area. He did not expect to spot the woman he saw there. Before he could observe her he had disappeared inside yet again, being taken to a room just before entering his trial, waiting to be called upon.

She was looking for him. After everything he had done, she was still struggling desperately to find him. He found himself taken back by his own emotions on the matter, some unorthodox mixture of arrogant satisfaction and relief. She still loved him. There would be no other reason for her to be here, searching with a frantic gaze for a man she should have loathed. He admired her stubborn loyalty to her passions. For a long moment he wished to see her again, one last time before whatever result occurred. But that was beyond his reach and intention. By the time his trial was over he would be headed back to cryosleep. She was becoming someone he cared for but she was still not his family.

"Perhaps in that other timeline, I could have loved you too." He whispered to the air, his escort confused but uninquisitive before he was finally summoned to be a spectacle in front the men and women that would judge him for seeking vengeance. He glared about the room with loathing as they spoke the formalities but before he would be through he would have the result he wanted.

"My name…is _Khan_." He answered though he knew that here and now they wanted the explanation of why someone with such a different visage would claim to be a dictator of ages past. He would tell his story to these people he despised. They would not believe him but that hardly mattered. By the end he would be deemed too dangerous to leave awake and their moral code was against murder without Admiral Marcus around. He would be reunited with his people at the conclusion of the trial.

* * *

In the end, she could not see him. Alone, she wandered the streets of San Francisco without her closure, wondering if she would ever have a chance to speak to him again. Without realising it she had made her way back to the crash site. The security watching for people crossing the sectioned off areas eyed her suspiciously but she barely even felt their gaze.

A tear slipped from her eye, the rest forbidden from spilling as she stuck out her chin stubbornly refusing to break down again. She observed the colossal ship. There was no doubt in her mind that it was some classified warship, not the usual voyagers of Starfleet. That had Admiral Marcus written all over it. Had Khan finally found his vengeance? Was he satisfied with it? Marla could not believe that. There was too much hatred and rage inside the man she adored to believe he would be satisfied when so many existed that had still threatened harm upon his crew.

"Could I have been part of your family?" She asked after a long moment deciding that if she could not speak to him directly she might as well speak to his memory. The guards exchanged glances like she was insane before dismissing her presence entirely.

"You were everything I thought you would be and more, Khan Noonien Singh. Passionate, ruthless, ambitious…and impossible to read. At least for me." She continued her gaze directed toward that monument of his cruelty but seeing the past. Observing their time together, listening to the echoes of their exchanges. The times that made her sad and the times that made her happy. She had her regrets for things she should have done, words she should have said. But the chance had slipped away and she could not save those that had already been lost.

"Is the idea that you could love me a comforting lie? Am I being dishonest with myself?" She questioned, bowing her head to the silent answer. "If you were here, would you take me with you? I would go with you, Khan. Regardless of the danger." She promised the empty air before turning away. One last tear disobeyed her, falling to the ground and she whispered "goodbye" before abandoning the memory that could not become a reality. Perhaps in some other time, some other life she got to be with Khan and he returned the love she would always offer.

* * *

((A/N: Many, many apologies for how long it took to get this up. I need to set more time aside to make sure my stories are submitted in a timely fashion. I hope you have all enjoyed and that my portrayal of the characters has been acceptable. bedb: Thank you very much for your reviews. I really enjoy the food for thought. In response to Marla being strong or weak I actually feel like she's a lot of both which is why I have such a hard time writing her. I really love your take on RicardoKhan. It is beautiful and, in my opinion, extremely accurate. Thank you all again, look out for the epilogue and as per usual, constructive criticism is cherished.))


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